The Last Trial
by MossyMeow
Summary: When Anakin fails to clear Ahsoka's name, she must come to terms with her impending execution. Series of one-shots (not in chronological order).
1. Chapter 1

All alone in a cold gray cell, Ahsoka Tano prepared to die. Her small hands clenched tightly around her knees, which she had pulled up to her chest, and her eyes were closed with intense concentration. Her lips moved silently as she repeated an old Jedi mantra under her breath: _I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me_.

Ahsoka Tano was no Jedi, not anymore. She had been expelled from that sacred order, the one she had been a part of since she was but a toddler. Not only that, she had been cast away like garbage, forced to endure a trial rigged against her, and sentenced to rot in a cell while the Senate endlessly bickered over which method of execution would be the most humane.

Humane? Ha! She would have been dead _weeks_ ago if Grievous had captured her. She would have died a long, torturous death, yet that would _still_ be more humane than the festering hellhole she had been thrown into. Her captors never raised a hand against her, and the isolated cell she was assigned had no other prisoners nearby to torment her, yet Ahsoka still felt prison slowly eating away at her sanity.

She heard voices outside, and the Force surged. As the footsteps approached, Ahsoka straightened, and clamped her hands over her chest with feigned confidence. The door slid open with an obnoxious squeal, and Padmé Amidala entered.

Her face had gained several new lines since Ahsoka had last seen her, and her eyes were downcast with barely contained grief. "Hello," Padmé said weakly. She sat down next to Ahsoka, and briefly wrapped her arm around the young Togruta. The guard coughed loudly, and Padmé drew back.

Ahsoka looked up. "Any news?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

Padmé nodded. "They...they've come to a decision." She swallowed hard, laced her hands together. "We've come to a decision."

She rubbed her temples. "And?"

"The...the execution is...is tomorrow," Padmé said. Her voice hitched, and she turned away. "I'm...I'm so sorry, Ahsoka."

Ahsoka felt her heart plummet in her chest. "How...how...?"

"An...an injection of...of chemicals tailored specifically to your body chemistry. They...they say...it'll be a good death. Quick...easy...painless." Sighing, she turned back to Ahsoka, tears staining her face. "I'm...I'm sorry, Ahsoka."

"I'm...I'm sorry, too."

A look of confusion crossed Padmé's face. "Why? You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yes, I do. I'm sorry...I'm sorry for leaving you."

Padmé took her hand and gently squeezed it. "It's not your fault, Ahsoka. The blame is all mine. I...I _failed_."

She shook her head. "No, you didn't."

"If I had succeeded...you'd...be back... in the...in the temple. You'd be safe."

Ahsoka let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, right! Like they'd ever let me back in."

"Even if you were proven innocent?"

"No one gets a second chance, Padmé," Ahsoka replied. Gently, she pulled her hand out of Padmé's grip. "Not with the Jedi."

Padmé straightened, in an instant transitioning from heartbroken friend to Senator. "That can't be right," she said.

Ahsoka blinked sadly up at her. "I don't know if it's _right_," she said softly. "But I know for a fact that it's true."


	2. Chapter 2

Ahsoka used to be certain she wasn't afraid of dying. She had faced death more times than she could count, and survived every single time. She had nearly fallen victim to a deadly virus, crossed lightsabers with Asajj Ventress and even General Grievous, and fought off merciless Jedi hunters with nothing but her bare hands. Every time she had felt nothing more than a tinge of fear. The odds never mattered. She was Ahsoka Tano, Padawan to the Chosen One himself, and like her master, she was fearless.

At least, she had thought so, until Palpatine had announced her sentence.

"Ahsoka Tano, by an overwhelming majority of five hundred and twelve to three hundred and fifty-four, the court finds you guilty of murder, terrorism, and sedition against the Republic," he had drawled in his deep, lofty voice, his long robes swishing as he gracefully raised his hands. His voice was far too calm for the wild, uncontrollable torrent of emotions Ahsoka could feel through the Force. Fear. Anger. Disappointment. Grief.

That last one was coming from Padmé, Ahsoka realized. She could sense it in the young Senator, and see it, too; it was swelling in her soft brown eyes. As their eyes met, Padmé made a small movement with one hand. The gesture was tiny, but its meaning was clear: _Be brave, Ahsoka_.

Love and gratitude flooded Ahsoka, and she gave a slight nod to the Senator before shifting her gaze onto the podium on which Palpatine stood, ready to declare her sentence. She took a deep breath.

"Given the scope and severity of the crimes committed by former Padawan Tano, and the state in which it has left Republic Security, the court has decided to, in accordance with military protocol, sentence Ahsoka Tano to death."

A wave of anguish washed over Ahsoka before she had even fully processed his words. It was so intense that she felt she might drown in agony. It took her a moment to register the emotions were not her own. They belonged to Padmé. The woman's face still was frozen into the mask of a Senator, but her emotions betrayed her. She was terrified.

Ashoka nearly jumped as a hand was placed roughly on her back. The trial was over, and now she was being guided out. Her legs felt almost too numb to walk, but she called upon discipline honed by years of training, forcing herself to move. She was certain tears were burning in her eyes. Her mind buzzed with a single thought: _I don't want to die_.

As she walked, Ahsoka felt a thousand eyes staring in her direction, silently judging her. Calling her a murderer. A traitor. A monster.

Monster. That word, that horrible, terrible, evil word didn't belong to her. It belonged to people like Grievous or Dooku, the sort of people who killed without a second thought, who _longed _to kill, the kind of people who truly, deeply desired death and destruction. Not her. Never her. Ahsoka was not a monster. She was the victim. She was framed…

Framed? Ha! Like anyone would believe her. She was a murderer, after all; that's what they said about her now, and no amount of evidence could ever sway their opinions back to her side. So though she had never killed without provocation- no, had never killed except in the defense of herself or others- she was now a ruthless murderer. And that was all she would ever be.

The clone whose hand was pressing against her back- she vaguely recalled his name to be Commander Fox- shoved her roughly into the cell, causing Ahsoka to fall to her knees.

"Murderer," he snarled. "You deserve to die."

"I didn't," Ahsoka whispered, her voice hoarse. "I wouldn't...I would never…" Her words caught in her throat, and she looked down at her knees. "I'm sorry," she muttered. Then finally: "Master…"


End file.
